*[This is a work of fiction]*
The Tremaine family was known for several things in their small town:
First, for being overwhelmingly full of women. It was almost unnatural, some had said, how female-dominated they were. Even the men who married in, surrendered their surnames and adopted the Tremaine name to continue the legacy.
Second, for their overwhelming love of each other. Most of the kids in town left for a coastal city the second they turned eighteen, often never looking back. But many of the Tremaine brood stayed behind, and those that left to pursue careers and lives elsewhere never strayed far, often returning every other month and bringing life back to their otherwise dull town.
Third, for their overwhelmingly large estate. The Tremaines were the among the oldest family this side of the Northeast, their manor lasting through multiple generations. The estate was usually bustling with activity, a cacophony of laughter and chatter. But around the time someone in the family turned eighteen, the entire estate turned completely silent for over a month. Save for several of its members coming in and out to attend to their day jobs, the usually busy Tremaine mansion was seemingly devoid of activity, as if it had started hibernating.